


Can’t stop thinking of you (wherever you are)

by ki_writing



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types, Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Genre: (not sure tho... angst? i don't know her. i only know fluff), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Fix-It, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M, Oliver pov, Song Inspired
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-12-27 00:25:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18293147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ki_writing/pseuds/ki_writing
Summary: And I know I shouldn't tell you, but I just can't stop thinking of you, wherever you are.





	Can’t stop thinking of you (wherever you are)

**Author's Note:**

> was supposed to be 1.5k words tops, but this happened instead. i just really wanted to write something inspired by the song [wherever you are](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2GRtFC8nTag), bc i guess i like to think it's some sort of oliver pov omg (disregarding the actual context of the song). i've never worked on something song inspired before, so this is new. OH, and there is no Oliver girlfriend/fiancée/wife here, btw. :-)
> 
> also, i'm working on a longer story... but i needed a little break so i wrote this. 
> 
> enjoy!!

_For a while we pretended_  
_That we never had to end it_  
_But we knew we'd have to say goodbye_

 

Oliver never thought a couple of weeks spent in Italy would thoroughly change him. After all, the sole thing he expected to gain from that summer was a finished manuscript, ready to be published by the end of it. But that was only a fragment of what he got. It amazes him how a single person could have such an impact on another. Elio, he changed Oliver. Elio, the only person in the world who was more himself than he was, because Elio was _– still is –_ Oliver. It took them a while to get over themselves and truly expose what they felt. The desire, even from the very start, was palpable. Both of them wanted nothing more than to be with one another, or so Oliver discovered weeks into his stay with the Perlmans. There was a turning point in their relationship: a kiss, to test out the waters, turned into something _more_ , something wonderful, something Oliver had never experienced before with anyone else. It was a pity they waited so long to make a move, for they only had a few weeks to enjoy their new found discovery. That didn’t mean they didn’t make the most of it, though. More often than not, Oliver liked to pretend that summer was, well, eternal. He liked to pretend he didn’t have a life to get back to in the States. He liked to believe this was his home – and it was, really, because Elio was there, and anywhere Elio was, Oliver liked to believe was home –, pretend like this was just the start of forever. But that was just cruel. Deep down, beneath all the happiness and giddiness of this new, beautiful thing, he knew pretending like there was no end to it would only hurt him more, because there would be a point where they’d have to say goodbye, without knowing what would become of them.

 

 

 

 _You were crying at the airport_  
_When they finally closed the plane door_  
_I could barely hold it all inside_

 

And the day they had to bid goodbye came sooner than he expected, hitting Oliver hard in the face. They had arrived at Rome when realization dawned on him: those were to be the last days of his summer with Elio, the last days where he could forget about everything to just _be_ with this amazing human being. To his credit, though, he didn’t let the looming sadness dampen the mood. He’d never enjoyed himself so much. Every moment spent with Elio in Rome – in the villa, at the berm, _anywhere_ – was blissful. Only the night before his departure did he really let himself grasp the reality of the situation. He would be leaving Elio behind in a few hours to go back to a life that didn’t even feel like his own anymore. He was crushed. He watched Elio as he slept, trying to memorize the soft curves of his body, the bridge of his nose, his hair, his hands… Before he could stop himself, Oliver was crying, sobbing softly into the night. He knew leaving Elio was going to be the most difficult thing he’d ever done.

 

When they were at the airport, before they had to say their _real_ goodbyes at the security gates, Oliver pulled Elio into the bathroom, into a stall, closing the door behind them. Elio looked stunned for a minute, before a look of pure adoration graced his features. He hugged Oliver tightly, pressing his face into the crook of his neck.

“ _Elio_ … Elio, Elio, Elio, Elio, Elio…” whispered the younger. “I–I’m going to miss you so much, Oliver.”

Oliver could feel Elio’s hot tears dampening his shirt. He could barely keep in the sob that was threatening to erupt.

“Oliver…” His left hand made his way to Elio’s waist, while the other cradled the younger’s head tenderly, almost reverently. “It’s going to be fine. We’ll keep in touch, I’ll come visit… when I can.” A sob. “I’ll try to call you on a regular basis – international call fees be damned.” A watery chuckle. “We’ll be fine.”

He didn’t know who he was trying to convince, Elio or himself. _Both_ , he supposed.

He grabbed his chin gently, making Elio look him in the eye. Oliver had a small smile in his face, filled with sadness but also with so much love. Elio gave him a small smile, too. Their smiles said things they couldn’t verbalize in that moment, things that were too painful to say out loud. Then, carefully, as if Elio could break into a million pieces, Oliver kissed him. He kissed him, and kissed him, and then some more. After they broke apart, he realized he’d started crying, and now Elio was the one whispering sweet, comforting nothings into his hair. He collected himself, smiled at Elio and gave him one last passionate kiss, bursting with all the love he could muster.

They made their way to the security gate, and Elio asked, even though he knew the answer, “are you sure you have your passport?”

Oliver looked down and chuckled. Oh how he’d wished he didn’t, if only to use it as a flimsy excuse to prolong his time with Elio.

“I’m sure, yeah,” he responded with a smirk. Then that smirk turned into the same, sad smile from the bathroom. “Come ‘ere.”

And Elio did. He hugged Oliver tightly, as if he was the last thing keeping him alive, as if he’d die if he were to let go; Oliver understood the sentiment all too well. He hugged back just as tightly. They broke apart, and Oliver went his way. He was determined not to look back, because he was sure he’d be met with Elio crying, and he wouldn’t be able to see him cry again. He would break apart, too. But the growing hole inside his chest made him look back just as he was about to turn right – and he’d been right. Even from the distance, he saw a crying Elio, tears streaming down his face, covering his mouth in what he guessed was an attempt to keep his sobs in. Oliver couldn’t bear the sight. With one last look, he made his way to the nearest bathroom, closing the stall door behind him with a loud thud. He’d held his breath five, ten seconds, and then he’d broken down.

 

 

 

 _Torn in two_  
_And I know I shouldn't tell you_  
_But I just can't stop thinking of you_  
_Wherever you are_

 _You_  
_Wherever you are_  
_Every night I almost call you_  
_Just to say it always will be you_  
_Wherever you are_

 

Fast forward a couple of weeks – 7 weeks and 3 days, but who’s counting? – and Oliver was still wallowing in regret. He hated that he had to leave Elio behind. He hated the uncertainty of _now what_? And he’d been right: this life in New York felt alien to him. At first, he’d thought he just needed 2 weeks tops to get back on track, to readjust to his ‘normal’ life. But that wasn’t the case. It’s been almost 2 months since he last saw Elio, and not a day went by where he didn’t wake up and go to sleep without thinking about him. He’d exchanged 2 letters with him, and talked to him on the phone 4 times, but it was hardly comparable to having him at arm’s reach. More often than not, he’d zone out of conversations, staring blankly ahead, only to be brought back by colleagues asking, “everything alright there, Oliver?” He couldn’t get himself together for the life of him. He missed Elio so much. He didn’t even know he was capable of missing someone this much – until now, that is.

He was in his study, almost done revising some papers, when he grabbed the telephone on impulse and dialed the all too familiar number. One, two, three rings, then, “pronto?”

Elio. The fact that he’d already called him this week didn’t matter, hearing his voice was always a shock that sent a shudder down his spine.

“Elio. Elio, hi.”

“Oliver?” Came the younger’s response, a smile evident in his voice.

“Yes. I’m glad you picked up. How are you?” Oliver was almost breathless.

“I’m alright, I guess.” Then a sigh, followed by a barely audible whisper, “I’m so glad you called…”

He could hear something akin to dread, sadness, in his voice. He begun to worry. “Is something wrong?”

Another sigh. “Well, not precisely.”

“Then what is it?”

“I just… I miss you. Very much.” He sounded defeated.

“Oh Elio,” Oliver responded regretfully. “I miss you, too.”

After that, the line was silent for a couple of minutes, but they were okay with that. Oliver was torn in two, thinking about all he wanted to blurt out: _Elio, I miss you so much. Do you have any idea of how much it hurts because I miss you too much, every day of my life?_ Or, _I just can’t stop thinking of you, wherever you are_. Or, _I love you_. They had never exchanged those words, not explicitly, at least. But they both knew it. Elio knew, too; he was sure of it. However, he knew that speaking these words would only hurt them more, making the separation all that more unbearable. He was pulled out of his reverie when he heard soft sniffing.

“Elio?”

More sniffing, then, softly, “Oliver.”

He sighed. He didn’t know what to say to him to make him feel better, without unintentionally hurting him. He suddenly couldn’t bear it anymore.

“Listen, I have to finish reading some papers…” A small whimper on the other end of the line. “But I’ll call again in a week or so.”

“Promise?” His response was said with a voice so small, nothing compared to his usually well-funded, witty comments.

“Yes, Elio. I promise.”

“Okay.”

“It was nice talking to you,” _it was really nice hearing your voice, listening to you speak means everything to me even if it breaks me into a million pieces to hear you so sad_ , he thought.

“Yeah. Thank you for calling. Bye.”

With that, the call ended.

 

That night, like many others, Oliver laid in bed, restless. He wished he could take Elio’s pain away, even if it meant he would feel it doubled over. There was always a tiny part of him that wished Elio would have considered their… _whatever they had_ , as a careless summer fling; that way, he wouldn’t be suffering through any of this. But he knew better than that, and this was nothing like a summer fling. Sure, it’d happened during summer, but that’s about it. The connection they shared since the beginning only developed into something deeper, it didn’t matter that it was played out during a couple of weeks only. They both fell, hard and carelessly. They both knew it would be painful, but that didn’t stop them. This kind of thing… not everyone is lucky enough to have it ,even once in their lives. All things considered, Elio and Oliver were very lucky to have even met in the first place.

That night, like many others, Oliver was tempted to call Elio. Even if it wouldn’t be a problem, time zones never even crossed his mind when he had sudden urges to call. He got out of bed to the nearest telephone, which was in the living room, and picked it up. He _almost_ called. He dialed the first few numbers, only to abruptly put the phone down and storm back into his room. He wanted to scream, cry, then scream some more.

That night, to make himself fall asleep, he kept replaying memories from their shared time – and it mostly helped. At least it made him a little less restless. The last thought in his mind before falling asleep was, _Does he even know? Elio, do you know it will always be you? No matter what, wherever you are. It will always be you._

 

 

 

 

 

_I could fly a thousand oceans_  
_But there's nothing that compares to_  
_What we had, and so I walk alone_

 

_I wish I didn't have to be gone_  
_Maybe you've already moved on_  
_But the truth is I don't want to know_

 

As time passed, Oliver’s desire to drop everything and buy a plane ticket – with no return – to Italy kept growing. It made no sense. He thought that with the passing of time everything would be more endurable. It wasn’t. Everything still reminded him of Elio, there was no escaping him – not that he wanted to escape him.

Still, he goes to sleep thinking about Elio, almost calling him every other night. What they had was so special, there’s nothing that compared to it. It was only natural for it to have left such an imprint in him. He would give anything to see Elio, preferably soon.

Sometimes, Oliver still beat himself over the fact that he left the younger behind, as if he’d had a choice in the matter. It’s been months, and he still wishes he hadn’t left. When his thoughts get the best of him, he thinks about the possibility of Elio moving on. _What if he’d already moved on?_ What if Elio had moved on and Oliver was still stuck in this rut of missing and pining forever? (Although he wouldn’t mind, he wouldn’t have it any other way.) Elio had every right to move on. He was so young, had a whole life ahead of himself. _Maybe he did move on, but he won’t say anything about it to spare me_ , thought Oliver. Then again, he had never hinted about having moved on. When they spoke on the phone, or via the letters they sent to each other on a regular basis, Elio never said anything about that – and he usually said a whole lot of things. Even if Oliver was dying to know, to crush that awful thought once and for all – or, to his dismay, prove it right –, he could never gather the courage to ask Elio. He just couldn’t. Even if the thought gnawed at him, deep down, he didn’t want to know.

God, Oliver missed Elio so much. A part of him was missing, as if it’d been hastily ripped out of him. He would call him in the morning – well, Elio’s morning, anyway.

 

 

 

_You can say we'll be together_  
_Someday_  
_Nothing lasts forever_  
_Nothing stays the same_  
_So why can't I stop feeling this way_

 

It’s been almost a year since he last saw him. Almost a year since that summer spent at the villa, having no care in the world whatsoever. He could still remember, _feel_ , the Italian summer heat against his skin.

He and Elio have never once stopped communication during this 1 year period – they send each other correspondence frequently (in which, they always resorted to calling each other by their own names, as if to keep that small detail of summer alive throughout the weeks to pass) and they talk on the phone at least 2 times a month (Oliver wasn’t kidding when he said international calling fees be damned, all those days ago). He even sneaked in calls with Samuel to further speak about Elio. He tried to be nonchalant about it, but he knew Samuel knew. He could picture him smiling knowingly every time conversation stirred towards Elio.

There was one thing, however, that Oliver wanted to know about Elio, but he daren’t ask about it to either of them: where Elio was planning to attend university. During the time they’ve known each other, they’ve certainly spoken about it, albeit vaguely. He remembers Elio throwing in some school in Paris, another school in Rome, one in the States… Oliver was dying to know. This fall, Elio would be going to college. Why hadn’t he said anything about it? And more importantly, why couldn’t Oliver simply _ask_ about it? He wasn’t sure, but had an inkling. (He didn’t want to be gutted and disappointed when his university of choice wasn’t _at least_ in the States. His mind was cruel; it kept replying a constant mantra: _what if he’d decided to attend university in New York?_ But he knew that was simply too good to be true, so he tried very hard not to let that ray of hope sneak in inconspicuously.) He had to ask – and soon.

 

It was no special day, just a Saturday morning with nothing better to do than read a book and drink an americano – nothing like the Italian coffee he got used to last summer, thank you very much – in the small coffeeshop located near his apartment building. He was reading some novel that one of the teachers recommended. It wasn’t necessarily bad, but his concentration was elsewhere. He was absentmindedly circling the rim of his coffee mug before he got his messenger bag and took out pen and paper. He would write a letter to Elio, and he’d go send it as soon as he finished it. He wasn’t sure where he got the sudden inspiration from, but he felt like he needed to point out a few things, say some things that he’s never said before, things that he still didn’t have the courage to say out loud – at least not through the phone; maybe it’d be different if he could say them directly to Elio’s face. And so, he started to write. He was kind of pouring his heart out, not holding anything back; Oliver was proud of himself. When he was done, he was pretty satisfied with his work:

 

 

_Dear Oliver,_

_How are you? I hope you’re doing alright. I’m fine, in case you were wondering (I know you were). In case you haven’t noticed, it’s summer, and I’ve been thinking a lot more about well, last summer. Come to think of it, I guess that’s where I got my current inspiration from. (I know, I know. I sent a letter not long ago, but I just had to write you another one, okay?) I can’t believe it’s been nearly a year. All the memories keep popping into my mind at random times of the day. Sadly, nothing lasts forever – at least summers don’t. We wasted so many days, to quote your exact words. But we made the best of it, that I am sure of. I try not to get fixated on the fact that everything could have lasted a little more, but it’s inevitable. We were so stupid, if I’m honest. Could have avoided a lot of petty shit, but I guess this is just who we are. So, it’s okay. I wouldn’t have it any other way._

_I’m gonna be really honest here – I can’t believe you’re still putting up with me? Not that I’m surprised, how could you ever resist me? ;) In all seriousness, though, it amazes me. Just–thank you. For giving me the time of the day and keeping me in your mind._

_I know we usually keep our letters and conversations light, speaking about mundane things like work and school and whatnot, but a thought to delve into some other things (things I’ve kept to myself for far too long) crept into my mind. Just bear with me for a moment._

_As I stated before, it’s been practically a year since we last saw each other, and there’s not a day that goes by that I don’t  think about you and miss you. And look, I know we do say “I miss you” to each other constantly, but I don’t feel like I ever express the extent to it. Elio, I miss you so much it hurts. I wake up in the morning and there’s you, I go to sleep at night and there you are again in my mind. Everything reminds me of you. Sometimes I see random things at stores or wherever and think to myself, “oh, Elio would love this,” or, “I would buy this for Elio.” (Actually, fun fact: I’ve bought things for you. I hope I have a chance to give you all of it soon, otherwise I’ll keep cluttering my apartment.) I just can’t stop thinking of you. Do you have any idea of how many times I had to physically stop myself from calling you night after night? Comic, really. I always entertained thoughts of what you’d be doing at any given moment; maybe you’d be in school, or hanging out with friends, spending time with your parents, or shopping, maybe. It didn’t really matter, wherever you might be; it didn’t change my missing you and your constant presence. God, I wish I could hug you, hold you close and never let you go._

_You goose, you probably have no idea of what you do to me. It’s fine. I’m trying to let you know through this very letter._

_I would say this was just me, but I know you thought the same: for a while, we pretended that we never had to end it, even if we knew we’d have to say goodbye sooner or later. It was alright, in a way, except when it wasn’t. The day of my departure, when I saw you one last time and you were crying, I had to essentially run to the nearest bathroom to ball my eyes out – and no, I am not exaggerating. When I came out of there, I looked an utter mess; red faced, puffy eyes, and even had a sore throat.  I was so sad. I still am. I couldn’t believe I had to leave you, but it was unavoidable. I had to come back and continue with my life – a life that didn’t feel mine, however. Not after you happened to me. I wished, still wish, I didn’t have to be gone, away from you. I miss you._

_On my worst days, when my mind decides to play the cruelest of tricks on me, I think about how maybe, just maybe, you’ve already moved on. And I’ve been thinking about this for the better part of the year. But I never asked, because even if the doubt ate at me, it was better not to know. The truth is, I didn’t want to know. I still don’t want to know. That’s a lie. I want to know Elio… I need to know. Have you moved on, maybe? I won’t blame you if you have. You’re so young, everything ahead of you. I just want what’s best for you, whatever makes you happy._

_Okay, sorry. I feel like I’m losing my way here. There are so many things I want to say, that everything comes to me at light speed and I can only write so many words at a time. Sorry if this is a little all over the place. You’ll be fine, you’re smart._

_Despite everything, I have a feeling we’ll be together, someday. I don’t want to jinx it, but I feel it the deepest part of me. I know nothing stays the same, but it’s okay. We’ll adjust to everything and anything. I used to believe nothing lasts forever, but I’m not so sure anymore, because… I can picture forever with you. Yes, I said what I said. I hope I don’t scare you off… too much. Look, I know we never spoke about a lot of things that were important, like the nature of our relationship and what would happen after everything had to come to an end, but with little actions that seemed insignificant at the time, I – and dare I say you – expressed a lot of things that I didn’t even know I felt. Elio, I love you. I love you like I’ve never loved anyone before. I know you’re still young, but I also know you’re mature enough to know what you want in life. And if that includes me, maybe, well, please know I’m all up for it. I love you so much. I’m sorry if it disappoints you that I’ve said those words through a letter, but I really wanted to say all the other things I said – and I knew I wouldn’t have been able to say them over the phone. I just really wanted you to know. I love you, Oliver._

_Yours always,_

_Elio_

_PS._ _For some reason, don’t think I haven’t noticed, you’ve said nothing about university and you’re starting this fall. I was too scared to ask because I didn’t want to get my hopes up in any way, so I was waiting for you to talk about it on your own – which you didn’t. Care to elaborate on that?_

 

 

Oliver had never made himself to be so exposed and vulnerable, but he knew it was worth it. He grabbed his things and headed to the post office. All there was to do now was wait.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It was the middle of the night when Oliver heard the phone ringing. He clumsily got up and made his way to the living room. His mind was blank, so he didn’t think or make anything of the situation; he simply picked up the phone as if it was normal to receive calls at late hours of the night.

“Hello?” He said hoarsely.

“Oh. Shit. I woke you up. Stupid! Of course, time zone difference.”

His mind was processing the words being said to the receiver. Was this… “Elio?”

“Oliver… sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you. It must be, what, 3 in the morning? I don’t even know.” Through his clouded mind, Oliver could hear the apologetic sound of his voice.

“It’s okay, don’t sweat it.” Okay, this was Elio on the other end. He was definitely very much awake now. “What’s up?”

“Nothing really, I just really needed to speak to you, but didn’t realize it’d be so late over there. Sorry again.”

“I said it’s fine,” chided Oliver and, with a smile in his voice, added, “you goose.”

Silence, then, “so yeah… I got your letter.”

Letter? What letter? _Oh_. “Right.”

“Oliver… I actually waited a few minutes to call, because I needed to compose myself. At least a little bit, anyway.”

“So…?” Oliver knew he sounded so unsure. But, hell, he’d never poured his heart out like he did in that letter. His days had been filled with anxiety and anticipation and nervousness since he sent it. And now, Elio had read it. What did he think? What did he have to say in return?

“Well, first of all, I couldn’t wait. If I wrote you back, it would have been weeks until you received my response. So, a call it had to be.”

Oliver chuckled. Of course, this was Elio; the guy who couldn’t wait and just wanted to _be with him_ the day after _midnight_.

“Oliver, I love you. Everything that you wrote, I know and understand because it is exactly how I feel. It’s almost like I wrote it myself. Which, come to think of it, I kind of did.”

Oliver chuckled again, “goose.”

Elio continued. “I was going to tell you, basically all of what you said, when I arrived in New York.”

New York? “What?”

“Well, to answer your last question: I’m going to study music. In New York. I guess I wanted to surprise you?”

Shock invaded him. “Elio, you don’t keep this type of things to yourself!”

“Surprise?” He responded sheepishly.

“Right. Right, okay. So… let me get this straight: you’re moving to the States? Let alone the States, you’re moving to _New York_?”

Now he said it with enthusiasm, “surprise!”

“Whoa.” Honestly, Oliver was speechless. “Okay. Wow. Let a man know!” He was gaping. He was glad Elio couldn’t see him because he’d make fun of him.

“Yep.”

“Where are you going to live?”

“About that…” Pause. “I was hoping you’d let me crash at your place for a few days? Until I find something?”

Bullshit. Elio, that little shit. “Oh, crash at my place for a few days, you say?”

“Yes…?”

“Uh huh. A few days. I see right through you.”

“Hey! At least let me pretend like I was going to look for a place to begin with, geez.”

Oliver laughed wholeheartedly. Elio joined him soon after. The older realized he hadn’t said I love you out loud, so he did.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Oliver. So much.”

Oliver had a huge smile on his face. This was going to be interesting – and amazing. He was sure everything would fall into place once they saw each other again, and he couldn’t wait.

**Author's Note:**

> always here for happy endings... i don't think i'll ever write something that's not fluffy and happy aksjcnjds  
> thanks for reading <3


End file.
